Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Even though it… bothered me.
It bothered me very fucking much to let go of her hand. To leave her like that. Like she’s some kind of a dirty little secret.
But I had to.
I had to protect her, take the danger away from her. So she could have an opportunity to sneak out and rejoin the party.
So I gave Helen what she wanted: going to a secluded spot where we could talk.
Well, to an extent.
Helen wanted to get out of there, go to a restaurant or a cafe or something. And I told her that the best I could do was out on the deserted street. So we went and we talked and when she started her sob story about Seth cheating on her and needing a friend, I made an excuse about having to leave.
Which shocked her of course, and so when despite her strong objections I turned to leave, she tried to kiss me. I firmly pushed her away because I’d had it with her.
I’d fucking had it.
For months, she’s been trying to get my attention.
Months.
And while it was okay back when I wasn’t… involved with someone, now it fucking pisses me off. Especially when she tries to get close to me at St. Mary’s. Especially when she tries to stop me in the hallways, draw me into group conversations.
When she tries to touch me.
And when she does it in front of her.
It’s not… nice. It’s not…
Her rosy cheeks lose their color, all right? Her silver eyes lose their light. She stops smiling and laughing and I fucking hate that.
That’s why I always make sure to stay away from Helen.
Not that I had any desire to be close to her in the first place; she’s married for God’s sakes.
But these past few weeks, I’ve had an added purpose in doing so.
So this was a long time coming, this confrontation, and I’m glad the moment is here.
Helen clenches her teeth at my frank words, her hands fisted. “I did not try to maul your mouth. I was emotional.” She runs her eyes up and down my body. “Something no one can accuse you of, apparently.”
I press my hands on the desk even harder at her dig.
Not that she’s wrong.
Emotions haven’t been my forte for a long, long time now.
“Well, now that we’ve cleared it all up, you should leave,” I tell her, hoping that I’ll finally get some peace.
Although I’m not so sure if I will.
I’m not so sure that I’m ever getting peace.
“So why did you come?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. “If you knew I was trying to get your fucking attention. If you knew I was trying to sleep with you, why did you pick up my calls and accept all my invitations back then?”
Yeah.
Why did I? Why did I accept all her invitations? Why did I meet her at the fucking tree?
I could’ve very easily shut her down.
I’m not known for gentleness or tact.
So why the fuck did I not?
In the beginning I thought it was desire. That I wanted to see her. Even though she’s married and I’m not a man who looks back, I thought it was the undeniable urge to see an old, broken dream.
But it wasn’t that, was it? It wasn’t that at all.
I stare at her, at her face, her eyes and her lips, things that I once upon a time dreamed about as I say, finally, “Because I was guilty. Because I’ve always been guilty. For being a shitty boyfriend. For breaking my promises to you. For making you dream with me when I should’ve known better. When I should’ve been smarter. And I will always feel guilty for that. Always. And…”
I clench my jaw at this next part for a second, before continuing, “I went to your wedding. Even though when you called me with the invitation, I had no intention of going. I’d closed that chapter of my life and I’d closed it pretty hard. But I still went. And I think I did that because I wanted to punish myself. Because I wanted to watch you, someone that I had no right to want, someone that I had no right to dream about become someone else’s.”
Yeah, that’s it.
Isn’t it?
That’s why I went to her wedding.
To see another one of my foolish dreams get taken away.
Really taken away.
To punish myself. To teach myself a lesson.
So that I never ever make the mistake of dreaming and reaching for things that don’t belong to me.
Finally I straighten up and focus on her, noticing tears in her eyes for the first time.
And so I probably shouldn’t say what I’m going to but I really don’t care.
I really don’t care about hurting Helen when I’ve already hurt… her.
“What we had is gone now, Helen,” I tell her so she finally gets it and leaves me the hell alone. “It was gone the moment we broke up. Maybe we wanted each other once. But we don’t want each other anymore. You don’t want me. You just want the thrill I can bring you, into your boring life. And I don’t want you. And for a while there, I thought it was because you were married. That I could never do what my dad did to my mother. But that’s not true. That’s not true at all.